


I Never Wanted to Be King, Anyway

by VidalsQueen



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VidalsQueen/pseuds/VidalsQueen
Summary: Katarina Amell is feeling down about recent events and takes comfort from her friend Zevran. Things get heated when Alistair catches them in a precarious situation. Don't worry, she doesn't cheat.This is something I wrote ages ago and found recently. Mythicait convinced me to share it, so I am gifting it to her. Love you, boo!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Amell (Dragon Age), Female Amell & Zevran Arainai
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	I Never Wanted to Be King, Anyway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicait/gifts).



Upon entering the camp, I make my way to my tent. I bypass the campfire, my companions, all but the welcoming bedroll that awaits me. The constant fighting, be it darkspawn, my companion’s bickering, or the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, it has worn me down. Left me feeling beaten and broken. My body aches, my mind is constantly racing and all I want is a nap. Naps are good. They allow a much-needed break when your body begins to say, no more. 

I lift the tent flap and crouch inside. Normally I would shed my armor before entering but the last few days have left me feeling stripped raw and completely vulnerable. I can’t claim some sense of overwhelming modesty, but I was a lady… once. Yet, recent events have driven home how untrue those words now are. 

The weight of the armor releasing from my body gives me a moment to breathe. I am unaccustomed to anything more than simple robes of fine silks, cotton, and the lightest leathers. Not that the Elven gear isn’t light, just cumbersome for a mage. Until I joined the Grey Wardens, there had been no need for such armor. My shields were more than enough to train in my magical abilities. Then my enemies began swinging swords at me and shooting arrows. I soon felt the need to better protect myself. 

It is a shame I hadn’t seen the need to take the same precautions with my heart. 

When the last of my vestments are shed, the ichor and blood remain. Darkspawn mixed with bandits linger in my exposed skin. It generates a heady odor. However, I can’t bring myself to care. I just want to sleep, to let dreams take me, and hope that they find me well. No nightmares of the Archdemon, no sleepless tossing, and turning. I sigh, knowing full-well that it’s not likely to happen. And with my current turmoil, I am more likely to dream of death in all its forms. 

Finally, I lay down, stretching my lithe body along my bedroll. I try to quiet my mind, running through my Circle meditations and focusing on the worst of my aches and pains. I am no healer but I can recall the ways to loosen the muscles, to unbind the knots that present themselves after a battle or any rigorous activity. 

My mind tries to wander to him, but I won’t allow it. I do not want to think about all that has happened between us and all that may never be again. He should have told me, should have warned me. It was bad enough that returning to the Circle, I had to come face-to-face with my former crush only for him to yell at me and call me an abomination. Or rather my people. Mages. But now, the man I love… No, Katarina. Stop it.

Footsteps sound outside my tent and I grind my teeth, barely holding back the whimper that wants to escape. No. Not tonight. Go away. I can’t handle his jokes. I don’t want to hear him making light of this situation. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it but I can see the truth of it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. 

When the tent flap opens, I turn to berate the man, only to find it isn’t Alistair but Zevran. In his hands are a large bowl of steaming water and a sponge. 

“Dear Kitty Kat, I was thinking about how wonderful it would be to have a scrub and a massage before plopping into bed tonight. Surely you could use both more than I, so, here I am.” His Antivan accent rolls the words smoothly off his tongue.

His eyes roam over my body almost luxuriously. I have to admit, I’ve always enjoyed the way he looks at me. It is one thing to know you are pretty, but knowing that someone sees you as a sexual treat they would gladly devour at any moment is another beast altogether. He never hides his feelings for me, even though he’s also let it be known it was a base desire and nothing more. Even now, there resides an undeniable hunger in his eyes.

“Don’t worry so, dear Warden. It need not go beyond a massage unless of course, you decide to take it further. I will be the abject professional.”

This is not exactly a comforting thought since I am keenly aware that his first profession was prostitution. But my aching body and heart want his touch. My back and legs scream in protest at the thought of turning him away. And now, with the knowledge of what was to come, what my future would and wouldn’t hold, I begin to wonder if I care. It is difficult, knowing the future I thought I was building could soon be ripped away. I’d escaped the Circle but just barely. The Wardens were no better. I am still bound to a cause, a purpose. And now, just as before, I will be denied the person I love. 

Reluctantly, I sit up and motion him inside the tent. I am aware that I am still in my smalls but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen me in so little clothing. And now that I’d adopted the Elven armor, it wasn’t like there was anything new on display. 

“Don’t worry about Alistair. He was snoring so loudly even the hound was getting annoyed. Your templar is quite a loud sleeper when you give him the chance.” 

I laugh heartily for the first time in what feels like months. It is true. For almost as long as I’d known Alistair, I have had a difficult time keeping my hands off of him. 

Sobering, I remember the cause of my current mood. I still can’t believe I am being asked to give him up. Coming from the Circle, being torn away from the only home I have ever known because of another’s foolish actions, wasn’t that enough? Did I have to live with the constant fear that everything I loved would one day be torn away from me? My parents, I barely remember. Yet, it is another of the losses I deal with daily. 

Alistair is the only happiness I have ever known. Sure, there were pleasures to be found in the Circle, and Kinloch Hold held many fond memories but it would always be a gilded cage. Even now, my home lies in shambles. Yet, Arl Eamon, the people of Ferelden need a King. How can I deny them this? Alistair is a just and caring man. How selfish would I have to be to deny him the throne just because I want to keep him to myself? He may not want the position but it doesn’t mean he isn’t the best person for the job. He doesn’t see the potential everyone else around him sees. Except for Morrigan. 

“Where have you gone, dear Warden?” Zevran examines my face, looking for a clue to what I am thinking as if he doesn’t know. 

His soft voice pulls me back to the here and now and I realize he has already begun my makeshift sponge bath. He holds my hand as the sponge wets my arm and a shiver raced up my spine and pearls my nipples. 

“I’m sorry, Zev. I have a lot on my mind.” I give him a small smile but it is tainted with the depression that has settled on my shoulders. 

“As well you should but do try to relax or all of the talents I employ will be for naught.” His rough fingers smooth away the beading water as he finishes up the first arm. 

I decide there is no harm in relaxing into his touch. I focus on the circular motions of his hands, the rough, yet soft textures of the sponge, the brush of his fingertips as they glide along my slick skin. Soft moans escape my lips and his attentions hesitate for a split second. I know he wants me. He’s stated the fact many times. But I also know, he won’t go any further than I tell him to. 

I am also aware that his being here isn’t entirely altruistic. It is an excuse to touch me. To have his hands roaming freely over my body. This isn’t the first impromptu massage he’s treated me to. Nor is it the first time he’s come to my tent uninvited. Zevran craves touch. It doesn’t have to be sexual but he likes to cuddle, He enjoys being able to touch another. His hands always find my arm, my leg and I will always let him rest it there without hesitation. Alistair doesn’t like it but I’ve explained to him many times that I am not interested in the Antivan Elf. 

After I have been thoroughly cleaned, Zevran takes my hand and guides me down on top of the bedroll. Laying flat on my belly, I take a moment to adjust and get comfortable. 

With his hands on the straps of my bra, he asks, “May I?”

I nod my assent and he gently tugs on the ties holding it in place. This isn’t the first massage I’ve had and I am aware that clothing hinders the quality of the massage. 

He begins in long, hard strokes, gliding his oiled hands over the muscled ridges of my back. There didn’t use to be so much muscle there. That had come in the recent months of fighting the darkspawn. My muscles roll under his nimble fingers. I can feel my mind and body wanting to sink into a languid state. His fingers push into my flesh, knowing instinctively where to go. 

My moaning intensifies with each new muscle’s kinks being worked over. I can feel the response to my reactions in Zevran’s body. A little more pressure, a slight hesitation, the tightening of his body pressing into mine as he moves from my back to my shoulders. I shouldn’t react to it. Shouldn’t care. But I can’t help the pulse of loneliness that thrums through me. 

When his fingers become light, lingering touches along my sides, tracing the curves of my breasts, I realize I have let him go too far this time. I should have stopped him sooner and my heart aches anew. 

“Zev…” I pause, not knowing how to complete the thought. 

He pushes away from me, seemingly knowing what I am about to say. “You truly love him?”

I roll onto my back to look him in the eye, quick to pull the blanket up over my breasts before turning over. “More than I ever realized possible.” 

He nods and gathers his things, quick to leave the confines of my tent. 

“Zev,” I call hesitantly. 

“Yes, my Warden.” He turns back to me with a small smile.

“I’m going to tell Alistair you were here. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. People in this camp can’t seem to stop gossiping about each other.”

He nods, “Of course, my Warden. I would expect no less.” 

As the tent flap opens I see the silhouette of MY Warden. For a second, I smile, happy to see him but then I take in what he must be seeing. Zevran half-dressed. Me, nearly naked. The massage oils in Zev’s hands and my body slick with it. 

I open my mouth to explain but Alistair holds up a hand, stopping my words. His gaze sends daggers in Zevran’s direction before he looks at me with an abject frown. 

“Zevran, I don’t want to see you the rest of the night, or I may be forced to kill you.” His eyes remain on me, not acknowledging the Antivan any further but Zevran nods anyway and leaves without a fuss. It is not the reaction I would have expected. I would have been sure moments ago that he would try to get a rise out of Alistair but for all his silliness, his kind-hearted nature, Alistair could be incredibly intimidating. His bulk alone dwarfed the Elf. And with the look he’d shot him upon his exit, I couldn’t blame the little man for getting out of his way.

Alistair’s body fills my vision, his arms crossed, he somehow looks even bigger than usual. I want to explain. I need him to know I had no intention of sleeping with the Elf. “Alistair, I…”

Again, he holds up his hand, staving off my words. “I heard what you said.”

I give him a blank stare, as I have no clue what he heard and what he didn’t.

Finally, his visage softens to the man I love and he uncrosses his arms. “Maker’s Breath, Kat. I woke up because I need to relieve myself… not that you wanted to know that… that’s not my point.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to come up with words. “I could hear noises of pleasure coming from your tent. I thought…”

He pauses, pacing outside the opened tent flap. With each pass, he sends a murderous glare in Zevran’s direction. After the heat of his anger has worn down a bit, the pushes his large body through the opening and settles down next to me. For a moment he stares at my hand that holds the blanket in place over my bare breasts. 

“I heard you moan his name. I thought… I was about to leave the camp. I didn’t want to fight him or you, but I couldn’t make myself leave without figuring out what was really happening. I didn’t want to believe that you had given yourself to him or that you had abandoned us,” he fidgets with the grass that is poking out between my bedroll and my armor. 

“But then, I heard your next words.” He stops picking at the grass and inches in a little closer. “You love me?” 

I can’t help but feel foolish. Here is this man who has my heart and I have yet to tell him so. I admitted it to Zevran freely enough but after the Landsmeet, after meeting with Anora, it seemed so impossible that he could ever be mine. I wanted to tell him before and I hesitated. But now, seeing the pure vulnerability in his eyes after what could have only been enraging shock, it was truer now than it had ever been.

“Yes, Alistair. With all of my heart.” I reach for his face, feeling the slight scruff that has grown in over the last few days and he presses his thick lips into my open palm.

He smirks then, “Well, good to know.”

His lips settled on mine and I can feel the heat of his checked anger. Yet, there is something more to the searing kiss. His tongue delves into my mouth and on instinct, I lift my other hand to his hair, pulling him closer. The fact that I am topless has left my brain but Alistair’s big hands squeeze my breasts, reminding me. 

He lays me down, gently, and with his body over mine, he whispers, “I never wanted to be King, anyway.”


End file.
